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On the phone late one night, a fantasy begins to take shape in my mind — an obvious and perhaps even cliché possibility given your profession, yet one we hadn’t previously indulged.

Sprawling out across my queen-sized bed in a suggestive pose that showcases all of my curves, I snap a pic and send it off before I can second-guess myself. Perving over my sartorial selection, you praise the perfection of my ass in the dress I’m wearing just for you.

We met on Lex — one of the newer dating apps where queers use their charm and wit to attract potential dates. I had maxed out, having written six ads that poured from one into another like a stream of consciousness — I’ve always been far too verbose for word limits — and you responded, telling me precisely how each of the six had turned you on.

I knew I wasn’t going to be able to withstand self-isolating if I didn’t have a top who could make me feel touched during a time when my body was craving the one comfort I was missing. Which is what prompted me to write the ads. Lucky for me, there you were: our desires around sex, kink, and care overlapping exquisitely, our love for the written word and intersectional politics aligning impeccably.

At the start of queerantine I devised a self-care plan that included everything from wearing red lipstick and moving my body to opening windows and one orgasm a day. You’ve been a highly motivating force for that last one — often provoking me to go above and beyond that goal since the very first night we started sexting. That was over two months ago now and despite the physical distance, we continue to bridge the divide with each passing word. Thousands upon thousands of them.

It feels vulnerable to go there with someone I’ve never even met in person, to like someone as much as I like you this soon, but fuck it. We’re in the middle of a global pandemic — and if this hasn’t taught us that life is too short and precious to hold back on human connection in any extraordinary way we’re blessed with, then what will? And what a beautiful blessing it is. You’re the type of Dominant who appreciates my independence and neediness with equal measure, who honors the sacredness of my grown femme self in the everyday as much as my babygirl self within D/s dynamics, who, in the blink of an eye, turns from loving and stern.

“Damn, girl. You are stunning.” You can send me spiraling into subspace. “Now get on your knees for me.” I blush and flounder and I obey. Ever your good girl, I always obey.

But your flattery has gone straight to my clit and I’m feeling inspired. A bit audacious even. I’ve gracelessly shifted into a kneeling position on my bed, drawing the mic on my headphones closer to my mouth as I lower my voice and settle my ass back against my heels.

“What would happen if I were one of your students?” Even through the phone, I can hear your breath catch in your throat, can sense your jaw dangling mid-air.

You don’t think of your students that way. I know how seriously you take your job, your ethics around power imbalances. So the thought would never even cross your mind.

But you can’t help but think about me that way. Our chemistry has taken on a life of its own. I like your post on Insta and you get hard. Your name pops up on my phone’s screen and I’m throbbing. Hell, you even eroticize my giggle. And we play with power as two consenting adults — you see me as your equal, which makes me submitting to your dominance eagerly and with great enthusiasm all the hotter.

Spurred by the tension in your silence, I begin to weave the fantasy. “I’m a student who’s always punctual and clearly gifted, the first few papers I turned in never warranted anything less than an A, but would hide out in the back of the classroom, too timid to speak up during discussions. As the semester wears on, however, you’d notice a shift in me —subtle at first but with a pattern unmistakable to anyone paying attention.”

“I must admit, you’ve certainly captured my attention.”

Emboldened by the fervor trickling from your timbre, I continue. “Each week, I move closer to the front of the classroom and as the hemlines on my skirts continually inch higher, my grades dip lower and lower. After class one day, you decide it’s time to address the matter at hand.”

“Ms. DeLovely, will you please stop by during my office hours?” Your voice stern, but laced with sweet concern. Clearly this is a role you were born to play.

Fuck. What have I gotten myself into? I’m already dripping. “Yes, Professor Luna.”

I’ve never called you that before. We’ve played with other titles and honorifics but never that of “Professor.” And I can tell it’s getting you hard to hear me refer to you in this deferential manner.

“You hear a knock on your office door just as you’re finishing up for the day and check the clock. Five to five. You shake your head and bite back the slightest grin when you see me peek through the cracked door.” My voice hesitant, I begin to ask, “May I…?”

“Yes, of course, come in,” you interrupt, “and close the door behind you.” You’ve slipped into character with ease.

“You can’t help but notice that my skirt rises far too high for polite company as I take a seat opposite you. Had I really changed into a shorter skirt since you saw me in class?”

You’re growing harder by the second — it’s written all over your tone as you progress. “I allow my eyes to linger on your exposed flesh, trailing up to the buttons you seem to have missed on your blouse. I know I shouldn’t…this is so wrong. But I can’t help it. You’re not like my other students. Older and smarter…far more experienced.”

“And still the shyest in the bunch. But, yes. I do know well what I’m doing.” My heartbeat quickens in my clit at this admission. When I close my eyes, I can feel yours roaming over my body.

“Now, Ms. DeLovely,” you clear your throat, attempting to focus. “I can see you have much potential but you simply aren’t applying yourself. Your grades have been slipping and you seem distracted in class.” I squeeze my thighs together, imagining you peering over your glasses at me as you help set the scene. “I can see you’re nervous, shaking a little, so I get up from behind my desk and take your hands in mine.”

I’m deep in my role now too, feeling breathless and, yes, even a bit shaky. I can envision your office in my mind’s eye, can conjure the feel of the chair’s woven fabric embossing the backs of my bare thighs. “I gaze up at you with big doe-like eyes, an innocent expression beaming with longing.”

“I get so fucking hard when you look up at me so shy and coy at the same time. You’ve snapped my last lingering threads of resolve and I pull you up to my mouth, offering you my tongue to see just how capable you are.”

“All my shyness falls away in that moment and my instincts take over as I wrap my lips around your tongue and begin to suck.”

“Sucking me off like that makes my cock rage with envy.” I can tell you’re unsure how much longer you can hold out but you want to draw out the tension just a bit more. “I pull away despite your protests and take you by the shoulders. You know, Ms. DeLovely,” you continue, “I’m very concerned about your performance in class as of late. Do my lectures bore you?”

“No! Just the opposite, Dr. Luna! I-I…” Stammering over my words, I barely manage to explain myself. “When you get going about the atrocities of the kyriarchy or the pleasures of queer theory, it…turns me on. I’m entirely captivated…but you gesture so emphatically that I can’t help but fantasize about your sizable hands on my body. My fantasies take that thought and…run wild with it.”

“Ah, so is that why I’ve caught you eyeing my cock? Do you know how hard you make to keep my composure?”

I’m blushing deeply now. “I-I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t know you noticed…” I trail off.

“Not notice?” I can picture the expression on your face, you raising your eyebrows at me. You’re getting worked up. “Allow me to show you just what you do to me,” you say incredulously, explaining how you take my hand in yours and guide it to your bulging cock.

Finally! “Mmmmm…You’re packing hard and just the feel of you against my palm has me throbbing.” Clearly I’m not the only one who took the time to put on something new before your office hours.

You tell me how you take me brusquely by the wrist, leading me over to your chair, where you bend me over your knee. I lean forward over a small mountain of pillows on the bed to simulate this action. “I’m going to have to teach you a lesson about distracting your professor when they’re trying to lecture.” You describe how you slowly pull up my skirt, pleased with how exquisite my ass looks in those frilly panties. “Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, Professor!” I can’t get it out quick enough.

“I begin to spank your ass. Hard. I want this lesson to sink in, want your cheeks as flushed as your face.” I writhe against the pillows as you regale me with details — how pretty I look bent over your lap and just what it’s doing to you, how I recoil slightly with each smack, only to stick my ass out more prominently, how apparent it is to you that I’ve been wanting this.

“I gasp and whimper, wiggling around in your lap. You can smell the need all over me.”

You’ve grown impatient, you say, and so you take me by the jaw, forcing me to look deeply into your eyes as you gently push me to my knees. My lips begin to part on their own even before you describe how you squeeze my mouth into an “O” formation, how you use your free hand to release your cock and feed me the tip.

“I moan around the length of you as I swallow you whole, my palms rubbing against your strong thighs.”

“I guide one of your hands up under my strap to feel how wet you’ve made me.”

“Fuck, you feel sooo good! So wet and hard all at once. Working two fingers inside you, I continue to suck you off while I stroke your G-spot until you’re squirting all over my tits.”

You’re groaning, unable to disguise your hunger. “Look up at me with those sweet brown eyes. Are you going to keep your grades up?”

“Yes, Sir, I promise! I’ll work so hard for you!”

“Good girl. That’s what I like to hear. Now get up and bend over my desk. I want that glorious ass in the air for me.”

“I acquiesce immediately, demonstrating how good I can be.” I prop myself up and slip off the side of my bed, bent over, my ass begging for your attention. “You peel my sticky panties down over my hips and I kick them off.”

“You need a good fucking, don’t you?” Your voice commanding and lecherous.

“Yes, Sir. From you. I’ve been needing you to fuck me.” A good student always has the correct answer at the ready.

You describe in great detail how my glistening pussy and pleading tone makes your cock ache (my cunt spasms in response), how you can’t hold back any longer (I hold my breath), how you spread my lips apart and plunge deep into my cunt as I begin to frantically move up and down on you (I can feel you inside me as I match my movements in time), how watching me ride your cock makes your diclit grow underneath (my clit swelling with empathy).

I can tell this is going to be quick and dirty.

“You grasp me firmly by the hip with one hand to fuck me harder, snaking the other up to grab a handful of tit, pinching my nipple and making me cry out.”

“Reaching up, I wrap my palm around your mouth, muffling your noises. I can’t risk you getting me fired because a lingering colleague hears you. Now, I tell you, I want you to touch yourself for me and come all over my cock before anyone can walk in on us.”

“I reach down and work my clit furiously. The threat of being discovered paired with your unrelenting thrusts has me shuddering against your desk, screaming into your palm, grateful for its silencing presence.” My hips bucking wildly against my mattress, pussy contracting around my fingers, cum dripping down the freshly changed sheets. My laundry loads have increased significantly since you came into my life.

“I slam into you a few more times, riding out my orgasm against the base of my cock, coming so deep inside you before pulling out. I collapse in my chair and gather you up in my lap once again, wrapping my arms around you tightly. You’ve been so very good for me, I tell you, as I kiss your forehead and caress the side of your face, smoothing a few loose hairs behind your ear.” This type of tenderness is my undoing.

“I beam up at you, glowing as much from your praise as my fantasy becoming reality.” I ask hopefully, “Is there any way I can do even better, Professor Luna?”

“Hmmm…I’ll have to see about your behavior in class but for now I feel like your lesson has been both hard-earned and hard-learned.”